


cool down

by AnnaofAza



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: Kosmo wants to escape the desert heat. Shiro has an idea.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 60





	cool down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DropsOfAutumn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DropsOfAutumn/gifts).



Kosmo is not a desert dog.

Keith discovers this when Iverson, with great patience, tells him that the Garrison pool is not Kosmo’s personal cooling-off zone.

He does his best to look contrite; Iverson’s honestly gotten more mellow over the years and still hasn’t milked the “how I lost my eye” incident, even a little. Keith even makes a show of scolding the wolf in front of Iverson, who obligingly hangs his head and whimpers in an utterly manipulative tactic that's made Keith more than once slip him an extra treat.

Iverson guiltily pats Kosmo’s head and tells Keith that if it were solely up to him, he’d make exceptions, but others have complained and even submitted paperwork to the higher-ups.

 _That_ annoys Keith—who even goes to all that trouble?—but he sighs and promises Iverson he’ll work something out. 

He doesn't really know what to do. He can't shave Kosmo—whenever that thought pops into his head, Kosmo mysteriously seems to go missing.

Strap ice packs to Kosmo’s body? Stash him in his private quarters and crank up the air?

He brings this up to Shiro that evening, feeling mildly frustrated, but has to admit that cleaning out space wolf fur from drains isn't a pleasant chore for the custodians.

But Shiro doesn’t have much better ideas. “Attach a little fan to his head? Spray him with a hose?”

Keith lightly smacks him on the arm. “ _Stop_.”

Shiro comes up behind him, teasingly wrapping his arms around Keith’s waist. “Hire someone to follow Kosmo around and fan him with giant ferns?” He kisses Keith’s neck, and Keith snorts, leaning his head back as Shiro continues down, murmuring each ridiculous suggestion: “Feed him flavored ice cubes? Take him on a ski trip? Move to Antarctica?”

“You want to give up the desert?” Keith asks, half-joking. Shiro's lived here almost his entire life, but unlike Keith, he doesn't seem to have many significantly fond memories to tie him to one place. 

Shiro shrugs. “Tell you what: I’ll file a complaint with the Garrison and have us somewhere, oh, maybe on the coast, with breaking waves and a nice ocean breeze…” He hums underneath his breath. “Maybe that’s our next trip.”

“Off-planet or on?” Keith asks. Shiro has a list of places he wants to visit, which has gotten much, much bigger since before Kerberos. For now, though, they're tied to Earth for rebuilding and diplomacy needs. 

Shiro pulls him closer. “As long as it’s with you.”

* * *

A few hours later, he's spooned up against Shiro, both wearing absolutely nothing, the air cranked high. He keeps meaning to install AC in the shack, but always finds himself too busy. Maybe that can be a weekend project, and it might be nice, having a little getaway tucked away from the Garrison...

He hears a familiar pop, and feels a paw nudging his shoulder. 

“Kosmo,” he moans, trying not to wake Shiro, who’s passed out peacefully into his pillow. “No food.”

A lick to his face. Keith blindly reaches out to pet him, but meets nothing but air. 

He sits up, feeling irritated. "Kosmo. What's...?" 

Another pop—and Keith's dropped face-first into a powdery mound of snow. 

Kosmo pops up beside him, panting happily and beginning to paw at the ground, then begin sprinting, kicking up snow with his paws and barking. Keith looks up and sees a clear sky of stars and towering pine trees, which would be beautiful against the pristine blanket of snow if he wasn't _naked in the middle of nowhere._

"Kosmo!" he shouts, then shuts his mouth, whipping his head around. It would be just his luck to attract passing hikers, most likely with PADDs that can stream this whole scene for everyone in the galaxy. "Kosmo, this isn't funny! Kosmo!" 

He would chase Kosmo, who's rolling on his back amid the drifts, except he's not keen on running without anything protective or shielding, but stands up, trying to lift his feet off the snow as much as possible. "Kosmo! Kosmo!" 

Finally, Kosmo seems to take mercy on him, trotting back with a snowball in his mouth and dropping it at Keith's bare feet. 

"No, not cool,” he tells Kosmo, shivering, who looks mostly annoyed that Keith had the audacity to interrupt his fun. “Not cool. Take us back."

With another pop, Kosmo disappears—and Keith lands back in bed with a _poof_ , dripping melting snow all over the sheets. 

Shiro rolls over, making a muzzy noise. “Keith? Wha…”

“I’m just getting up,” he says, then shivers. Maybe a hot shower is in order. And some actual pants. 

* * *

Keith's wrong to think that's the end. 

The next day is a beach, where he spends a few minutes coughing saltwater out of his lungs. Another is a lake, where he comes back with leaves and sticks and mud in his hair. Then more snow, this time on a rocky plateau, with what Keith suspects as a research station in the distance. Glaciers. A tropical island. A former Olympic pool.

The last straw is a pond, where he ends up apologizing to a family of irate ducks and getting chased by hissing geese, with piercing blue eyes and beaks that leave serious bruises. 

When they teleport back, Shiro takes one look at Keith’s scowl and Kosmo’s dripping fur. “Need a towel?”

“Please,” Keith says, with as much dignity as he can muster. He’s lucky Kosmo always returns him to his quarters. For a space wolf, he's been remarkably discrete. 

Shiro closes his book. "I'm guessing a shower, too. Want me to join?"

Keith peels a long, muddy cattail off his thigh and sighs. "I think it's best if you don't."

* * *

The next day, he doesn't see Kosmo at all. 

Or Shiro. 

"Shiro?" Pidge says, when Keith asks her—after having to shout through Matt cursing in different languages in the background and computers making whimpering pleas of mercy. "He took some sort of half-day off." 

_Without telling me?_ Keith frowns, but thanks her and tries to go through the rest of his day. It's no one's birthday, and not even close to their anniversary, and it's become a running joke—and not just between him and Shiro—that Shiro never takes a break, not even after a small thing like a physical collapse or death. 

The mystery's soon solved: his PADD tells him to go to the shack as soon as his shift's over. 

When Keith gets there, he sees brightly-colored plastic, with a hose spraying an arc of water—and Shiro chasing Kosmo in red swim trunks. 

"Shiro?" he asks, trying not to laugh. 

"I, uh, called someone to install AC, and I also bought this...slip-and-slide.” Shiro blushes. “It’s silly, but look… he seems to enjoy it.”

Keith watches Kosmo hurtle himself down the slippery plastic, tongue lolling as water rains down from above, scattering rainbows across the shack's windows. His paws are outstretched like a superhero's, tail wagging furiously, and as soon as he reaches the end, he poofs himself at the beginning and starts again. 

Shiro's soaked to the skin, his fluff of bangs plastered to his forehead, cheeks still flushed a bright pink. His heart tightens at the thought of Shiro taking time off to set this all up, just for them, especially in the baking desert heat. 

Keith steps forward and kisses Shiro, watching Kosmo tumble down on his back, jaw open to catch more water. 

“Let me get my swim trunks,” he says. 


End file.
